


Drunkard By Choice

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-03-15
Updated: 2001-03-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 19:39:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11341956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Your basic drunken songfic truckfuck no-such-thing-as-an-ex-Marine extravaganza.





	Drunkard By Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Drunkard By Choice by Halrloprillalar

SPOILERS: None.  
DISTRIBUTION: Archive freely. Email forwarding OK.  
RATING: NC17 for manly men doing manly things with their manly bits.  
KEYWORDS: Slash.  
SUMMARY: Skinner/Doggett. Your basic drunken songfic truckfuck no-such-thing-as-an-ex-Marine extravaganza.  
DISCLAIMER: Not mine.  
MORE FIC: http://come.to/prillalar  
March 2001  
For the Scullyficcers, closet slashfen.  
NOTE: I've come to believe that there is a lot of scope for a serious and deeply felt Skinner/Doggett slash story. This is not that story.  
TIMELINE: It's warm out.

* * *

     Soldier by day, lover by night,  
     Drunkard by choice, Marine by God!

Drunkard By Choice  
by Halrloprillalar <>

  
** A pitcher of beer **

Skinner poured out. Doggett took the glass and drank. The bar was loud, country music blaring from the jukebox and people laughing at their tables.

"I didn't know there were this many ten gallon hats in DC." Doggett looked across the table at Skinner. "Were we supposed to wear them?"

"We're not undercover here." Skinner downed half his glass. "You have one?"

"No. You?"

"No."

Quite the look from Skinner there. "I take it you didn't pick the meeting place."

"No." Skinner looked around the room, answered without turning back to Doggett. "Agent Scully did."

"Ah." Doggett leaned back, sipped his beer. "And where is Agent Scully?"

"She'll be here." The rest of Skinner's beer disappeared and he filled the glass again. His trench coat rang. "Skinner...where are you?...all right...okay...uh, hi to her too."

"Scully?"

Skinner nodded. "Her mother dropped in. So the meeting's off." He drained his glass, so quickly Doggett was impressed, and stood.

"You're going to leave me here to drink alone?"

Skinner stared at Doggett, still standing. "What?"

Jeez, the stories were true. AD Skinner was a robot. "You had something else to do? Sit down and relax for once."

It took a few more moments of staring first, but Skinner sat again, shrugging out of his coat. He topped off Doggett's glass, then filled his own. "If you're going to drink with me, you'll have to keep up."

"I can do that."

  
** Two shots of Jager, two bottles of Sam Adams **

"Isn't there anything worth listening to here?"

"Do you like 'The Devil Went Down To Georgia'?"

"Give me another quarter. We can play a whole album."

"'Johnny Cash Sings Ballads Of The True West.' Nice choice."

"You don't like Johnny Cash?"

"Do they have 'Ring of Fire'?"

  
** Another pitcher **

"C'mon, rack'em."

"We playing for money this time?"

"We'll play for the tab."

"Damn, the table's warped."

"It's just the way you're standing."

"It's a trick shot."

"Sure."

  
** Shot of Jack, leave the bottle **

Doggett toyed with his glass before pouring out another shot. "Skinner, do you really believe this alien stuff?"

Skinner leaned in over the table. "I've seen so many things. Things that I can't explain."

"What kinds of things?"

"Spiritual things. Paranormal things."

"You're still being vague here."

Skinner frowned. "Sorry." He stared at his empty glass for a minute, then splashed in some whiskey. "Lessee, there was the time when...the time when..."

"When what?"

"When I was in Viet Nam and I died and then--" Skinner stood suddenly and bumped the table. "I'll be right back."

Doggett yawned and stared at his drink. After a while, he became aware of someone standing beside him.

"I'm sorry sir, we're closing. Your bill."

Blinking, Doggett fished his wallet out of his pocket, then fished his credit card out of his wallet. He signed something, stuffed a piece of paper into his pocket. Looked at the plastic card and finally realised he was supposed to put it away. Skinner came back. One more time, they raised their glasses and drank.

"You owe me for the tab, Skinner."

"The table was warped."

  
** Outside **

The night breeze was cool on Doggett's nose. And the back of his neck. He and Skinner headed down the sidewalk, bumping at the shoulder.

Skinner stopped and grabbed Doggett's arm. "My car's the other way."

"You're too drunk to drive."

"Right." They walked a little further. "Where are we going, then?"

"My truck."

"You're as drunk as I am."

"'S okay, we're not going to drive."

Skinner nodded or something and they kept going. Doggett started to feel a little uncomfortable. Like he'd forgotten something. They came up to an alley. Ah.

"Just a sec, Skinner." He stumbled a few feet down the alley and unzipped. Oh, yeah. Nothing felt better than this.

"Hurry up," Skinner called.

"Keep your pants on, Skinner," Doggett called back and started to laugh. So funny. He was impressed with himself. He zipped up and went out to the street to see if Skinner was laughing too.

"Keep your own pants on, soldier."

"Sir, yes, sir." Doggett saluted. Skinner returned it and they held the pose for a few seconds. And a few seconds longer. Doggett's arm was getting tired. "Permission to stop saluting, sir."

"Granted. We'll stop on three. One...two...three!" They didn't stop.

"Someone has to stop." Doggett didn't know how long he could keep standing up so straight. "I'll stop."

"Okay, you stop."

"I'll stop now." Doggett brought his arm down sharply, then slumped a little. Skinner did the same, slinging his arm over Doggett's shoulders.

"Which way?" Skinner turned his head and Doggett got the full benefit of his breath.

Doggett turned too and tried to focus on the face a few inches away from his own, on the end of the wide nose. "This way." He pulled Skinner along the sidewalk, winding his own arm under and over Skinner's back.

Skinner started to sing and Doggett joined in:

    "From the Halls of Montezuma  
     To the Shores of Tripoli;  
     We fight our country's battles  
     In the air, on land and sea;  
     First to fight for right and freedom  
     And to keep our honor clean;  
     We are proud to claim the title  
     of United States Marine."

People were staring, impressed by the glorious display. Doggett held his head high. And realised they'd walked right past the truck.

Skinner kept singing:

    "Our flag's unfurled to every breeze  
     From dawn to setting sun;"

"This way." Doggett turned around, dragging Skinner around with him. Skinner kept on going, though, and Doggett had to yank him back to keep them from spinning right around.

    "We have fought in ev'ry clime and place  
     Where we could take a gun;"

Here was the truck. It took a minute, but Doggett got the tailgate open. "Here we are, Skinner."

Skinner was leaning against the side, ignoring Doggett.

    "In the snow of far-off Northern lands  
     And in sunny tropic scenes;"

"Come on, get in." Doggett pushed Skinner, propelling him in the right direction. He had to shove Skinner's head down, though, before he could get him to crawl in under the tarp stretched over the box. Even that didn't shut him up.

    "You will find us always on the job--  
     The United States Marines."

Doggett crept in after him and slammed the tailgate shut. Somewhere in here there was something he needed. Maybe in the corner. He was blind in the dark so he felt around for it. No, not there. Maybe in the other corner. He reached over but something was in the way.

"Hey, whatcha doing?"

"Looking for something. Can you move a little?"

Suddenly Doggett was blind in the light.

"I have my flashlight." Skinner sounded pleased.

"Point it away from me!"

It was a few blinks before Doggett could see. Skinner held the flashlight under his own chin, ghost-story style. "What are you looking for?"

Doggett had to think about that. He was drunk, under the tarp in the bed of his truck, late at night. What would he be looking for? Logically: "A blanket." As soon as he spoke, the flashlight pointed back into his face. "Stop it! Look in the corner."

The light moved again and sure enough, there was the blanket. Skinner pulled it over top of them.

"No, blanket underneath. Jackets on top. Sleep."

"Sleep. Got it." Skinner switched out the light. They thrashed around together and finally got the blanket mostly underneath. It was lumpy, but slightly more comfortable than the metal floor.

Doggett struggled out of his jacket and spread it on top of him. A trench coat settled over his face. He pulled it away just in time for a shirt to take its place. A shirt? "What are you doing?"

Skinner bumped Doggett and stretched the tarp and banged his shoes against the floor. "Can't sleep in these." He continued to roll and flail.

"What do you sleep in?"

"Nothing." Finally, Skinner fell back and lay still.

The small sane part of Doggett looking out from under the hazy layers of alcohol and darkness knew with absolute clarity that he was drunk and he was lying in the bed of his truck with the Assistant Director who was also drunk and almost certainly stark naked. That small part of him also knew that this was Not A Good Thing.

The other part of Doggett threw his arm around Skinner and buried his face in the man's neck.

The neck was warm, textured with tendons and pulse. Doggett nuzzled at it, trying to feel it all through his skin. His hand, meanwhile, took in Skinner's chest. He'd never seen the chest in its natural state and unless he could find the flashlight, he wasn't likely to now. But felt a lot like he'd imagined it looked: hard and sculpted, toned, hairy, muscles moving under his fingers as he felt hands pulling at his own shirt and sliding up his bare back.

Doggett let drunken instinct help Skinner get the shirt over his head. A firm hand gripped his jaw and then they were making out in earnest, crushing kisses, probing tongues, roving hands -- the whole bit. There was so much Skinner but Doggett couldn't get enough. Neither could Skinner, by the feel of it. The man's hands were on Doggett's ass, pulling him close and his mouth was Doggett's neck. Doggett tried to remember if he even owned a turtleneck sweater anymore.

There was too much flesh tempting him, so Doggett moved down Skinner's body as best he could, licking and biting his way. When he got down to the flat abdomen, he plunged his tongue into Skinner's navel and felt Skinner arch under him. It wasn't the best-tasting part of Skinner, but Doggett liked the reaction so he did it again and again.

After a while, he couldn't wait any longer, and he took Skinner's cock into his mouth.

At least, said the small sane part of Doggett, you two are too drunk to...oh shit.

Skinner was firming up nicely. Doggett crouched rather awkwardly, but he ignored the crick in his neck and the pain in his knees and his head hitting the tarp as he sucked Skinner off. This part of Skinner tasted much better.

When Skinner came, he was noisy, gasping an invocation and pounding his fists on the floor. Doggett swallowed and crawled back up until he was head to head with Skinner again. He licked the man's cheek. "Don't go to sleep on me, guy, it's my turn."

"Mmm...right." Skinner ran his hand down Doggett's side. "Take 'em off."

Doggett managed to get his belt unbuckled and his jeans unbuttoned, but they were only down to his knees when Skinner took him in hand. Doggett just held on, mouth on Skinner's shoulder, hands somewhere, blood all rushing to his cock, as Skinner jacked him with more care and control than Doggett expected at this point. When he shot, he bit down hard and it was Skinner who gasped again.

A hand smeared across his belly, rubbing jizz into his skin. It tickled and Doggett started to laugh. Skinner joined in and they giggled and poked at each other until they began to shiver. Then they heaped shirts and pants and jackets over themselves and drifted off to sleep.

  
** Morning After **

Doggett opened his eyes. It was still dark for some reason. He sat up and hit his head and lay back down and hit his head, as though it didn't hurt enough already, and then he knew oh fuck just where he was and just whose sticky naked thigh was thrown over his also very naked body.

Skinner moved and Doggett knew he was awake. Neither spoke and Doggett tried to think. "Tell you what, it never happened."

"Okay." Skinner moved his thigh. "It never happened."

"We'll never speak of it."

"Never."

"Good." Now they just had to somehow get dressed and out of here. Doggett wasn't quite sure where to begin.

"One more thing." Skinner stretched and Doggett could feel every muscle ripple against his side.

"What's that?"

"Next week I'll pick the bar."

F I N I S

Does anybody know how to get "Ring of Fire" out of my head?  


  
Archived: 19:54 03/04/01 


End file.
